Intent
by Loony4moony816
Summary: Santana knew this was only going to end up in blood. A post-"Michael" fic. pre-Puckurt, Santana, Sebastian, Warblers.


"This is garbage!"

Santana stopped filing her nails to look over at Puck who was lifting weights over this head, "What now, Puckerman?"

Puck exhaled as he dropped the weight and went over to sit on the bench next to his favorite lez, "I run a car into an ATM machine and get sent to juvie for four months. Some rich asshole nearly blinds the hobbit and he gets to run off to his freakin' mansion."

Santana rolled her eyes, "I agree with you, but Kurt wants the Meer cat to be there at Regionals when we beat their privileged asses to the ground."

Puck wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. "I guess," he grumbled.

Santana resumed filing her nails, the sound reverberating in the nearly empty weightroom, "'Sides, we can still get him arrested after we beat their asses at Regionals. It's not like the statute of limitations is going to run out in the next month." She paused, lips curled into a smirk, "Take that, Mr. District Attorney Jr. Do you think his dad'll have to prosecute him? That'd be justice."

Puck snorted, "Have you been hanging out with Brittany too much, 'Tana? You gave him the tape!"

Santana whacked him with her nail file, "Do I look like an idiot to you? Was I born yesterday? I gave Kurt a blank tape and he tossed that to the Scream protagonist wannabe."

Puck's eyes widened, "Why'd you do that?"

"Just in case Hummel ever came to his senses and realized that winning a stupid high school show choir competition is nothing compared to almost losing an eye. I mean, if it was Bri—someone I cared about, a first place trophy would mean _shit_ to me." She stumbled on her words, but the message was clear. "The kid deserves to be locked up. It's fucked up enough that it happened to Anderson. Imagine if it actually hit Kurt."

"Wait—" Puck's face clouded in question, "—what do you mean, _actually_?"

Santana's face darkened in a scowl. She pulled out the tape recorder from her bag and rewound it to the beginning of the tape. The room was silent when she pressed 'Play'. A second later, her recorded voice filled the air.

"_Hey, Andrew McCarthy. Don't know if you heard, but Blaine may loose an eye. The same Blaine that was just bestsies with most of you not four months ago_."

An unfamiliar voice replied, horrified, _"Wait, are you serious? Is he going to be okay?"_

"_Well, sure, if he doesn't care about seeing in three dimensions." _

"_Trent. I've got this,_" the asshole's voice was distinct, even taped from the underside of Santana's breast, _"Bummer about, Blaine. He was pretty, but he shouldn't have gotten in the way. That slushie was meant for Kurt." _

Santana hit the Pause button and for a while, the click was the only sound heard.

Puck's voice was dangerous, reaching levels of controlled rage Santana had not heard in over a year, "Play that again."

"Didn't you—"

"Play. That. Again."

She rewound it and pressed 'Play' once more.

"_That slushie was meant for Kurt._"

And he was off. Santana barely managed a blink before seeing Puck storm out of the room, wife beater doing little to conceal the tension in his back and shoulders. This was only going to end in blood.

And as much as she wanted to see that smug, long face bleeding from every pore, Santana wouldn't be able to watch Puck go behind bars again. So she ran to the only person that could help.

* * *

><p>The walls of Dalton seemed at once regal and confining to Santana. She toyed with the idea of it being a way to keep students in, but dismissed that in favor of a more likely explanation. The walls were there to keep the unwelcome <em>out<em>.

Fat lot of good that was, she thought, as she jogged behind Kurt, whose strides were quick and anxious. She followed his sure path down a spiral staircase and through a set of doors that revealed none other than Noah Puckerman, who had not changed from his workout, holding a barely-concealed terrified Sebastian against a wall by the collar. Around them circled the rest of the Warblers, pleading with Puck to let him go.

"—he's a dick, no question, but please don't hurt him!" Santana wondered if being _that_ gay hurt the fat Warbler in any way.

"Puck!" Kurt ran to him, hand going to Puck's shoulder. He shrugged it off, eyes never leaving the Meer cat's face. "_Noah!"_

That seemed to get his attention, Santana noticed as she saw Puck's eyes flicker to Kurt's form. The second had passed and Puck resumed boring his gaze into blue eyes filled with terror.

"Go home, Kurt. You don't need to be here."

"Yes, I do!" Kurt cried, "What happened to waiting to beat them at Regionals, fair and square?"

"That went out the window, Hummel. I'm done with the nice guy act. This is who I am and I _have_ to do this."

"No, this is not who you are, Noah Puckerman!" Kurt pleaded, "You're so much better than that. Please, don't throw away everything you've worked hard for this. He's not worth it!"

Puck's hands gripped the blazer more tightly and he slammed Sebastian against the wall, "He's not. You are."

Santana watched as a confused expression made it's way on Kurt's face, "Noah, I appreciate that you care so much about Blaine, but—"

"Kurt, dude, I'm sorry, but I don't care that much about Anderson." Santana almost cracked up at the pissy face Kurt's transformed into. "It sucks and all that shit, but that's not why I'm here."

"Why are—"

Puck picked up the taller boy by the blazer lapels, throwing him to the ground, cutting off Kurt's question. "I'm here because this little _shit_ thought that he could hurt _my boy_ and get away with it."

"You just said you didn't care—"

Santana couldn't believe one person could be so slow, "Hummel! He's talking about _you!_ That asshole made that slushie for you! And if it wasn't for the hobbit, _you'd_ be the one in surgery right now."

Kurt's face was horrified, blue eyes wide and mouth parted open in shock. The Warblers started to whisper to each other, it was apparently news to them too.

Puck took a step toward the prone captain of the Warblers. It resonated with the force put down on it, "I let someone hurt you before, Kurt. Hell if I let it happen again." Puck raised his foot, preparing to bring it down on Sebastian's torso.

"_Stop!"_

The cry made Santana jump, the volume and pitch being too high for her to comprehend it at first. It startled Puck enough to stop him mid-stomp.

"Stop," Kurt repeated, eyes glassy with tears. His voice was weak, "I don't want you to."

"Kurt—"

"Please, Noah. Can we just go back to Lima? I don't want to be here anymore."

"Go with 'Tana, I'll fol—"

"No! I want to go with you!"

Puck stared at Kurt in wonderment and the occupants of the room waited with bated breath for his response.

"He was going to hurt you."

Kurt nodded, a stray tear making its way down his right cheek, "I know. And you're about to hurt him. I don't want you to, because you are so much better than he is."

Santana watched the conflicting feelings on Puck's face, but she knew how this was going to play out. Thirty seconds later, Puck replied.

"Fine." He turned from Kurt to face the still-laying Sebastian. "If you even _think_ to talking to him ever again, I will end you. Got that? _End._ You."

Sebastian nodded quickly, not saying a word. Satisfied, Puck walked over to Kurt, grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "See you punks at Regionals."

Santana followed them. Neither of them said a word, only releasing their hands when arriving in the parking lot.

"Thank you for listening to me, Noah," Kurt said.

"I'm not kidding, Kurt. If he speaks to you again, I'll kill him. I don't care about the jail time, it's not like I have a future anyway."

"Is this what that was about?" Kurt yelled. "You're worried about your future so you throw it away over some stupid, half-hearted revenge plot?"

"No!" Puck yelled back louder, "This is about some mother_fucker_ hurting one of my boys!"

"What the hell does that _mean_? When did I become your 'boy'? What the fuck _is _a _boy_?"

"Shut up!" Puck snarled. "Just, shut _up_, Hummel. Accept it, you're my boy and _no one _hurts what's mine!"

Kurt was pissed, "What's _yours? _Are you kidding? I'm not _yours_. I'm not _anybody's_."

"You're the hobbit's." Puck's tone was both challenging and defeated. "And he's the reason you're standing here right now. Maybe he is better for you."

Santana gaped, _what the fuck_? Kurt started, "What does—"

"Forget it, Hummel. Just go back to Lima with Santana. I'll follow in my truck." Puck's shoulders slumped almost unperceivably, but Santana saw it. With that, he climbed into his car and started the engine.

Santana pulled in the arm of one very confused Kurt, dragging him over to her car. "Santana, what did he mean by that?"

"I don't know, Fairyboy." _But I'm going to find out_.


End file.
